Chapter Eleven
You’re a hard girl to get a hold of.
Jove
Lyra’s time is up.
Taking a fortifying breath, I follow the directions on an adorable wooden sign sticking out of her lawn instructing me to follow a stepping stone path through what can only be described as a fantasy forest portal into another realm.
Lyra’s descriptions did not do this place justice.
Her backyard is straight out of a storybook.
There are benches and flowers and greenery and, best of all, butterflies .
They surround the greenhouse, flitting around and even coming close enough to brush my face with their wings as they pass.
Serenity spreads as I breathe in sweet air, relaxing my shoulders and letting go of the tenseness in my jaw.
It sticks, almost overpowering the niggle of frustration when I don’t see Lyra through the greenhouse windows or anywhere else in the yard.
Where is she? I have a situation to remedy.
Turning, I follow the path back to the front of her house, frowning as I leave the peace of her otherworldly back yard. Porch steps creak under my weight as I climb them, approaching her front door as casually as I can.
I knock.
“One second!” Lyra’s voice calls out from inside.
It takes her eight.
“Sorry! How can I–” Her words end as she catches sight of me, giving way to a horrific gurgling noise, which I ignore.
“Lyra,” I greet. “I think we need to talk.”